*This article is an excerpt from "Habitrot and The Wood Maiden: Spinning Goddesses and Imagery in European Tradition ," European Fairy Tales Series​ Vol VII.

Frigga Spinning the Clouds, by John Charles Dollman, 1909

​We have discussed the role of the Fates in European folk tradition and briefly mentioned that they are typically depicted as three female spinners. However, as it has been discussed in previous volumes of this series, definitions can be somewhat blurry, and representations of figures tend to bleed into one another.

There is certainly an association with spinning and weaving with the conception of fate and destiny. In fact, the concept of our fate, called Wyrd in the Anglo-Saxon tradition, is conceptualized as a great web made up of strands that are spun by the three spinners (the Fates, called the Norns in Germanic tradition). Wyrd can be seen as a cosmic tapestry of your life that exists in the spiritual plane.

A Golden Thread, by John Strudwick, 1885

But, just as the figures of the Fates can shift and morph into your own personal fairy godmother (as we saw in Vol VI, “The Three Golden Hairs”), there are other overlaps between figures. While we ​saw in “The Three Golden Hairs” that the protagonist’s fairy godmother was one of the Fates, she was also the mother of the Sun, who was clearly a memory of a Slavic pagan god in that fairy tale. But, when we look at Vol V (“Aschenputtel”) we see that the spirit of the protagonist’s own dead mother was her fairy godmother.

​We saw the fairy godmother shown spinning only in one scene in “The Three Golden Hairs.” And, in “Aschenputtel,” spinning was not mentioned at all.

​However, the protagonist’s mother did give her garments which are obviously made with textiles, and it was down to these garments that Aschenputtel was able to secure her fate. If that sounds like a stretch, stay with me.

In “The Myth of the Goddess,” Baring and Cashford explain that there was an ancient association between these spinning goddesses and motherhood.

​Motherhood was always seen as very sacred and magical. It gave women special status because they were the givers of new life. Baring and Cashford assert that the female goddesses who were weavers of fate are connected to motherhood and agricultural fertility.

Cinderalla illustration by Jennie Wilcox Smith

​The authors quote Eithne Wilkins from her own book “The Rose Garden Game,” which discusses how the Virgin Mary took on much of this symbolism. Wilkins describes the Fates as “spinners and weavers, an archaic female triad outside of time and space.” And goes on to say that they are connected to the “Great Mother” archetype:

“The Great Mother herself spins and weaves because she is the primal embodiment of the triad weavers of all things earthly, of growth, of time, of destiny. The primordial lady spins out of her own being the thread of time and weaves it to make the tissue of things, just as the woman spins in herself the tissue of another being’s flesh.

CLICK to view this book

​So, according to this theory, Aschenputtel’s fairy godmother being the spirit of her own mother and giving her supernatural garments from the Otherworld is significant. This is the spirit of the woman who actually created Aschenputtel in the flesh. And now, in the afterlife, she is giving her garments that came from the spiritual realm, and those garments play a key role in determining the girl’s destiny. And, we know from the discussion in that volume that the Fates do have some overlap with the Norse figures known as the Disir, who are ancestral female guardian spirits, literally the spirits of your dead female relatives.

There was a tradition to depict Cinderella's fairy godmother appearing in the fireplace/hearth. This is a symbol of both motherhood and an interdimensional portal between realms.

​However, the authors are right to tie the weavers of fate to the Great Mother goddess. As mentioned, the main mother goddesses in most of the European pagan pantheons were often depicted holding a distaff and/or beside a spinning wheel. While this imagery is certainly a symbol of domesticity, indicating their sphere as the household and the realm of women, it also speaks to the ancient concept that women held special power over life and death, which is tied to fate and destiny.

​Indeed, in native European tradition, magic was seen as mainly within the sphere of women. Dr. Brian Bates discusses the important role of women in Northern European pagan society and their high status as seeresses in his book “The Real Middle Earth.”

It is recorded in Roman observations of the Germanic tribes that when the tribes were negotiating treaties with Roman generals, that the Romans generals were shocked when they were not sent to the male chieftains but instead to the high female priestess.

​This woman would have been the seeress with the gift to look into the web of Wyrd, and so it was felt that she would be the most apt to make big decisions that affected the fate of the entire tribe.

CLICK to view this book

​The connection between spinning and motherhood, and therefore life giving, has also been observed by author and psychologist Marie Louise von Franz, who worked closely with Carl Jung for nearly three decades. In light of what we’ve already touched upon, her observations are fascinating.

In her book “The Feminine in Fairy Tales,” von Franz mentions that another psychologist conducted a study wherein she collected the dreams of pregnant women and of new mothers with infants. It was found that imagery of threads and weaving turned up very frequently.

CLICK to view this book

​In her own psychology practice, von Franz encountered this imagery in dreams of her own pregnant female patients. For instance, one patient had had a negative experience with her own mother and was having difficulty embracing her pregnancy.

​The woman dreamt that she was led to a boat on the sea by several women. She was afraid and cried out for her husband, but a kind woman came and talked to her, showing her a piece of silk and explaining how the various threads were woven together to make the cloth. The dream was interpreted as spiritual interjection to guide this woman toward positively embracing motherhood and the creation of life.

The three fates by Giorgio Ghisi

​That this particular dream occurred on a boat adds yet more layers. In Vol VI, “The Three Golden Hairs,” we discussed the imagery of the sea as the barrier to cross into the Otherworld. In particular, looking into it for that tale, I found that specifically it had been described as a very dark black sea in both that fairy tale and in the Slavic mythic tradition.

I personally had a similar dream, myself, although it was not related to motherhood but to fate. I had dreamt that I was on a boat in a very dark sea. The sea was scattered with many boats, but they had all been stuck on a predetermined course, like cable cars that could only travel their route but not move freely. Then there appeared a mysterious and powerful female figure who caused a great storm. The sea broke into waves that thrashed and rocked the boats. When the storm settled, suddenly all of the boats were free to chart their own course at will and go in a new direction.

CLICK to view this book

​When I had that dream, I had not then known that the dark sea represented the journey to Otherworld (where our fate is woven), just as I am sure that these pregnant women likely were not folklore buffs who knew all of the symbolism behind threads and weaving.

​Personal dreams fall into a category that modern Pagans refer to as UPG – unverified personal gnosis. As a side note, this is where personal experience must remain separate from historical research.

​However, when taken in a Jungian context, and especially when psychologists have observed trends among a large number of subjects, or when symbols and motifs occur in a dream when the subject had no pre-knowledge of the meaning behind the imagery, it lends one to taking Jung’s theory on a collective cultural unconscious very seriously.

CLICK to view this book

​Previously in this series I mentioned that my own grandmother had seen an apparition of a hooded female figure standing over the cradle of her newborn infant. She was raised Episcopalian in a small town during an age when neo-paganism was not remotely a trend. While she did have many experiences indicating that she had an undeveloped gift of “the sight,” and she was open to the mystical, she certainly was not studied in European mythology at all. Therefore, she would have had no foreknowledge that led her to imagine the Fates.

​ Yet, she represents an example of a new mother who experienced a vision of imagery that is seen over and over again in the European tradition, which is that of female supernatural figures visiting the cradles of newborn babies.

​Again, this is a personal anecdote of manifest collective memory experienced by someone of European ancestry who had no conscious intention of practicing native European faith. And, as with Maria von Franz’ subjects, this

​was experienced by a young woman who had just given birth. It seems to me very likely that these experiences abound, but without the cultural context to recognize the imagery, that most people dismiss these experiences.

​Von Franz explores the notion of a woven cloth as a metaphor for a newly created human being by comparing the composition of one piece of cloth composed by many interlacing threads is an apropos analogy to describe that “every child is the coming together into definite patterns of the Mendelian inherited units.”

By Valentine Cameron Prinsep, 1897

Gregor Mendel, as you may know, was the early scientist accredited as the father of the field of genetics. Von Franz is saying that the threads of a woven cloth are symbolic of the very strands of our own DNA. ​

DNA is more crucial in deeper ways than we have the ability to understand today.

​Just as individual strings form cloth, strands of DNA form each human. And these strands are woven in the Otherworld.

Our mothers’ bodies spin the material from her own body and from the seed of the father into the threads that will be used to weave the pattern of the new life in her womb.

​And, in a way, this imagery becomes like a fractal. Because the strings are spun in the Otherworld, your mother is the doorway that brings you from the Otherworld into Midgard (Middle Earth, the realm of mortals).

​While you are woven from strands of DNA that come from your parents, the three spinners continue spinning the web of your Wyrd on the spiritual plane.

Your mother is the portal by which your spirit enters the mortal realm. Her body weaves your DNA into being.

Your DNA is the cosmic thread connecting you to your past and your future.

​Your DNA, then, is like a bridge connecting the individual to both their ancestors and to their descendants. Your web of Wyrd is unique to you, but it is connected to the Wyrd of who came before you and will create a foundation for those who come after you. Meanwhile, these spinners continue to exist on the Otherworldly plane which exists outside of space and time. But, your DNA, as that magical string that transcends generations, also transcends time, as you receive your own fibers from your ancestors and give them to your descendants.

What this shows us is that much of the imagery in fairy tales is inherently deeper than most of us have been aware of. When we dig deeper into the imagery, we see that it stands for symbols and metaphors that tap deeply into our psyche and work to give us a deeper conceptual understanding of the universe and our role in it.

Habitrot and The Wood Maiden: Spinning Goddesses and Imagery in European Tradition